Chaos and Comfort

It is always most evident that in times of great chaos a need arises for the utmost of comforts.

For some, it’s sports. For others, TV. For me, Austen suffices.

I have read most of her novels but am now listening to the most excellent Rosamund Pike on Audible. In order of publication, the glorious Sense and Sensibility, then the brilliant Pride and Prejudice.

I cannot describe how many hours my household spent watching the A&E P&P released in the 1990s, replete with the screeching Mrs. Bennett, and the ass-kissing Mr. Collins. But it is the extraordinary Anna Chancellor, who plays Caroline Bingley, that is most memorable, certainly for all the wonderful parts she has played over the years, but mostly for her “Duckface” moniker, aptly named by Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral.

Why Duckface now? Because there is a marvelous scene where Caroline critiques Darcy’s handwriting, as he attempts to write a letter to his sister. She is all desperation, for of course she dreams of Darcy for herself.

Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in union with her opinion of each.

"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"

He made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!"

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours."

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already told her so once, by your desire."

"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you—but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

He was silent.

I’m reminded of the woman in my cursive handwriting seminar this summer, who spoke of her Mexican fathers and uncles and their extraordinary handwriting. “It was such a source of pride!” she said.

Indeed, in our time it is hard to picture how one would comment on the typing of another. What would one say?

“You type with such speed?”

An Embarrassment of Signatures

“Oh, what crueler irony could there be than for the gods to infuse a young man with dreams of literary fame and then provide him with no experiences?”

Handwriting makes an unexpected appearance in Amor Towles’ delightful “Ballad of Timothy Touchett.”

The short story, part of the collection Dinner for Two, tells the tale of Touchett, an aspiring New York writer who sits in the Main Reading Room of the 42nd Street Library, lamenting his lack of experience. How will he write when he has nothing to write about?

Enter Peter Pennybrook, a downtown used bookstore owner who happens to notice Touchett practicing the signature of one well-known 20th century author.

“As he sat in the library staring down at a facsimile of a letter from F. Scott Fitzgerald, rather than taking notes on elements of craft or branching off on some promising tasks of his own, Timothy found himself copying Fitzgerald’s signature over and over, even as the minute hand on the Reading Room’s clock advanced irreversibly toward eternity.”

Suddenly Touchett, with a premise from Pennybrook, has a “promising idea” to branch off on, all because he can emulate the flourishes, loop-de-loops, and downward slopes of the American avatar of the Roaring Twenties, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

"You Write Like My Grandma!"

They came. They wrote. They conquered cursive.

This was the first of two workshops I am teaching at the New York Public Library. It was just delightful, connecting with participants ranging from 20- to 60-something, representing at least six nationalities. Only one student had not studied cursive as a child, so that made things easier. We spoke about our cursive experiences and then got hands-on practice, using blank or lined paper with soft lead pencils or Bic ball point pens.

There was lots of talk of which letters are hard to form, such as a lower-case R or V. I would add that long words, especially ones like constitution, declaration, and independence can be challenging when you try to keep all the letters connected. Even those of us who regularly write in cursive often lift our pen in the middle of a word to make things easier.

I briefly spoke about current research, which shows the importance of teaching cursive as well as typing: Efficiency (for notetaking and exams), developing signatures, reading historical documents, and cognitive brain function that is specific to cursive handwriting. Anecdotally, I told the story about my fourth-grade tutoring student who printed so slowly I had no idea how she would take the state exam at the end of the year. 

The two takeaways that fascinated me were the following:

One student spoke about learning cursive first in a French lycée and it seems that, although I have not delved into the research on this, other Western European and Latin American cultures teach cursive first. The U.S. started teaching print first, during the Progressive education era of the early 20th century, so that students would learn to read better.

The other was the kind of handwriting, whether in print or cursive, that seems to come out of adolescence, where letters are round, dots are circles, or perhaps hearts. I would venture a guess on this: if you got the cursive training for several years and did everything the teacher asked, perhaps you wanted to, in classic teenager style, do things your own way, imbue a little personality, stamp it with individuality.

Tomorrow I’ll share my favorite middle school story: a student watched me write on the board and yelled out, “Miss Bushell, you write like my grandma!”

A higher compliment I have never gotten.  

Reuters Article

Psychology Today

Scientific American

Pioneer Institute Article

Calm and Centered

“For the first time in many years, a teacher was correcting my handwriting.” Jenny Gross, The New York Times

And here it is, yet again, another article about the benefits of handwriting. Although the article is focused on calligraphy, the principles of handwriting apply. “With so much digital fatigue, writing elegantly with pen and paper can be a joy.”

Recently, I’ve been drafting articles and blog posts initially in pen. It’s slower, movement based, and ultimately grounding. It leaves me feeling calm and centered.

Then, of course, there’s the research:

“Some preliminary studies suggest that working with your hands — whether by writing, knitting or drawing — can improve cognition and mood, and a study published in January by researchers in Norway found that writing by hand was beneficial for learning and engaged the brain more than typing on a keyboard. Some states, including California and New Hampshire, have begun reintroducing cursive (long regarded as obsolete in a digital age) into their curriculums, citing it as important for intellectual development.” – The New York Times

I briefly studied calligraphy as a child. Maybe it’s time to start again.

Countering Digital Fatigue, Calligraphy Is On the Upswing